I Choose You
by Padfoot333
Summary: John Watson is back from the war with his beloved Arcanine, Smaug, by his side. But what will happen to his life when he meets, and falls in love with a man who is fighting to ban the ownership of pokemon in London? Will John give up his best friend for a shot at the love of his life? Or will one pokemon change the heart of a broken consulting detective? #Johnlock #xover #pokelock
1. London

**Chapter 1 **

**London**

**John's Point-of-View**

* * *

London is a beautiful city. It has busy streets and quiet neighborhoods, peaceful parks and loud shopping centers, old architecture and modern buildings. London is my favorite place on Earth. I've traveled the world and yet I've never seen anywhere as beautiful as London. Don't get me wrong, other places have their merits, but I am of the opinion that nowhere will ever be able to hold a candle to my beloved London.

Often I wonder what it would have been like to live here at different times. What was London like in 1815 as opposed to now in 2015? What did the streets look like lit up by oil lamps at night instead of the humming electric lights that burn each night? Was the smell of London different before cars? Was that smell better when horse-drawn carriages were the primary form of transportation? I imagine, even with the pollution we have now, it smells better today simply due to the invention of indoor plumbing. But I digress.

This is my city, I should be happy to be back, but all I am is depressed. Looking around at all the bustling people, moving easily around me, it makes me sad to think of all the things I can no longer do. In addition, I am sad to say that I won't be able to live here much longer. I feel as if I'm watching the city slowly fade around me. Soon I will have to move, I can't afford London on an army pension.

One of the beautiful things about London is that most things are accessible via walking. I've always loved to walk, and so it has always been my preferred method of transportation. I love walking so much that I never even bothered to learn to drive. But now, walking is painful. My leg is cramping and aching. I slow my movement and put more of my weight onto my cane, heaving a sigh as I do so. People pass me on the sidewalks, I can feel them stare, their eyes boring into my skin. Some of them are annoyed at my speed, or lack thereof, others look at me with pity. _There but for the grace of God go I._

Smaug presses against my side, letting out a small whimper, he can always tell when I'm upset. I should probably mention that Smaug is my Arcanine. He's been my companion for many years. Hmmm, I guess some people might not be familiar with what an Arcanine is... It's strange to think that there are people out there who have never encountered a pokemon. For them, let me take a moment to explain.

In 1978 a Japanese based research laboratory bred the first successful pokemon. The creature was generated by splicing DNA from a frog, honestly I'm not sure what type of frog, and a cactus plant. Sounds strange right? Well it definitely was strange. The first photos leaked to Britain a few weeks later and no one could believe what they were seeing. Here was this little frog-looking thing with a cactus bulb growing out of its back. Amazing!

Many people were skeptical of course, myself included, but as experiments went on, and more and more of these creatures were bred, people slowly started to accept that these scientists were telling the truth, this was a real creature.

The scientists called their first pokemon Fushigidane, but since us Brits had a hard time pronouncing it, we gave it our own name, thus Bulbasaur was born into our everyday vocabulary.

It wasn't long before other teams of scientists began working with the Japanese and breeding and experimentation took a huge turn for the better. Bulbasaur became a new species, and with each new one born, scientists were experimenting and fine-tuning the creatures appearance and abilities. Nowadays a common Bulbasaur is about the size of a cat and has muscle integration with the cactus bulb on its back. This means that the bulbasaur can move and use the cactus plant, but we'll get into that later.

Of course, scientists didn't stop at Bulbasaur, and now there are over a hundred different distinct species of pokemon. Many people keep them as pets, still others are used for work such as helping fishermen, healing people, or serving side-by-side with soldiers during times of war.

This brings the story back to my Arcanine. You see, when I was 10, my mom, who loved pokemon, bought one for me and my sister. My sister recieved a mewoth and I a growlithe.

Mewoths are a cat type pokemon, really the only remarkable thing to be said of them is their ability to smell gold. My sister named it Princess, which was because my sister thought the large gold coin embedded in a mewoth's head looked like a crown.

Growlithes are essentially a dog. They come in many different colors, but mine was a beautiful combination of light brown and auburn red fur with pitch black markings around the eyes and on the feet. The thing was no bigger than any regular dog I'd ever seen, and so I was slightly confused as a child. But then my mom explained to me that growlithes have the ability to breath fire, all they need is to be trained carefully and they will become one of the most powerful pokemon species of all. My young eyes opened wide as I thought of all that my new dog could do. I remember saying, "but he's so small," to which my mother replied, "Of course he is, he's just a baby. You and him will grow up together, get big and strong together. If you train him well he may one day even evolve into an Arcanine."

I named my new pet Smaug after one of my favorite fictional characters, Smaug the dragon from The Hobbit. And just like that we became best friends.

* * *

_**Author's note:**_

_**Hi readers, this is the first chapter of my second fanfiction. As you can probably see, this is a crossover between Sherlock and Pokemon. I was inspired by some beautiful fan art which you can find simply by Googling "John Watson Arcanine." This story will also feature Johnlock so you have been warned. **_

_**I don't think this story will be more than 20-30 chapters, but who knows, maybe I will have more ideas as time goes on. Almost all of this story's plot is going to be noncannon, but of course I will try to put in some events from the show to anchor this story. **_

_**Please comment whether you think this is a good/bad/crazy idea. Also, I'd like suggestions for what kinds of pokemon our main characters should have, so if you have any ideas, please leave me a comment. Finally, I was considering doing some fanart to accompany this story. Possibly some illustrations of the pokemon as I imagine they would look in the "real world." Is this something you all are interested in? Please let me know. **_

_**Thanks for reading.**_

_**-Padfoot333**_


	2. Sherlock Holmes

**Chapter 2**

**Sherlock Holmes**

**John's Point-of-View**

* * *

I quickened my pace when the building that was my destination came into view. I took the small flight of stairs up to the main entrance as quickly as I dared and entered the office building. I entered suit 107, which serve as an office for 4 different psychologists, mine included.

The girl at the front desk looks at Smaug and I can see the fear etched in her face. Smaug comes in with me every week, and has for the past month almost, yet this girl is still terrified of him. To be fair she is a tiny thing and Smaug stands tall enough to look her in the eye while she's sitting at her desk.

She has me sign my name on a clipboard and take a seat. I'm used to the routine by now. I sit down and glance around me. There are only a few other people in the waiting room, and most are avoiding eye contact with me, and instead are taking sideways glances at Smaug. I've learned to except the attention, most people don't have pokemon or interact with them on a daily basis, and even if they do, Smaug is one of the biggest they will ever see.

My therapist, Ella Thompson, comes out and greets me. "John, how are you?" she asks.

"Not great, but what can I say?" We walk back to her office, Smaug following obediently. Ella's office is spacious and she has a long black leather couch. A couch, I know, it's kind of stereotypical, but I will admit that it's an extremely comfortable couch. I sit down and Smaug jumps up to join me, curling up at my side and resting his head on my lap, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on my bad leg. I start stroking his head, lulling him into a nap.

"So John," Ella begins, "How's the last week been?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes, still stroking the warm fur under my hand. "Same old same old I guess," I finally settle on saying.

"Have you written anything yet?" Ella is a middle-aged black woman, she wears her hair cropped short, and is always dressed in stylish clothes. She has lots to say about my post-war condition, and one of her more ridiculous suggestions is that I should start an online blog. As if I have anything to say.

She takes my silence for the answer that it is, no. She shakes her head slightly, giving me a gentle half-smile that I know indicates her frustration with me. "John, I really think it will help you. Just write about what happens to you."

"Nothing happens to me," I mumble before I can stop myself. I wince internally at how whiney it must sound. But thinking about it, it's the truth. Since I've been back in London, the only thing I really get out to do is see Ella, not much excitement in my life. Certainly not enough to entertain the masses of online blog readers. She shakes her head again, but thankfully drops the subject. Instead she asks me questions that I can easily answer like "how bad is the pain in your leg?", "how many nightmares did you have this week?", "have you been taking your medication?", things like that.

After our hour is up, I stand up and shake her hand, she pats Smaug on the head and bids us farewell. I turn to leave, but before I can make it out of the office, she calls out to me, "John?" I turn back and look at her, "please consider the blog. I really do think it will help." All I can muster is a half-hearted smile and a nod. Then I'm out the door.

* * *

Smaug seemed restless toward the end of my therapy session, so I decide to walk him for awhile before heading home. It will give me an opportunity to say some goodbyes to the city. I know I'll have to leave here soon, there's no point in denying it.

I decide to visit Bart's hospital. I did my residency there. I haven't been back there in years, plus it's not too far from here.

I'm walking the landscaped gardens in front of the hospital, when a man on a bench calls out my name.

"John?" Part of me wants to just keep walking, I don't really feel like company today. "John Watson?" He tries again, standing up as he does so. I scowl, but turn around nevertheless. I give the man a smile, trying to remember his face. He must have seen my confusion. "It's Mike," he tells me, "Mike Stamford." The light clicks on and I recognize him, one of my best friends during medical school. "I know, I got fat," he says with a jolly laugh.

"No, no, sorry," I say, trying to contain my excitement for seeing one of my old mates. "How have you been? What are you up to?"

"Teaching, if you can believe it. What about you? I heard you went over seas to get shot at. What happened?"

"I got shot," I say matter-of-factly.

"Oh...I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," I say, trying to soothe the situation.

"Would you like to grab some coffee?" Mike asks with a smile.

"Sure," I say, and beam back at him.

* * *

When our coffee was almost gone and we were all caught up, Mike looked me over and said, "So what're you going to do with yourself now?"

My face falls a little, "well, I'm going to have to move."

"Move!? But you love London, this is the only place you'll ever really be happy. You've said it yourself dozens of times."

"I know, but I can't afford London on an army pension."

"Can't you find someone to go halves with?" Mike offered.

I laughed and shrugged. "Who'd want me as a flatmate?"

Mike chuckled at that.

"What's so funny?" I asked, a little offended.

"Oh, it's just that, you're the second man to say that to me today."

I furrowed my brow. "And who was the first?"

"His name is Sherlock Holmes. He spends a lot of time here at Bart's."

"A medical student?"

"No no, I don't think he goes in for any systematic education if you get me. He's... well he's a bit odd."

I considered this. I have never thought myself to be ordinary, hell I have a four foot high fire-breathing hound for a companion, a bit odd shouldn't be bothersome to me. "I'd like to meet him," I said.

* * *

Mike led me into a lab in the large hospital. It was cold down here, and smelled of many different chemicals. Mike opened the door and we both walked in.

The room was dimly lit and the only person in the room was a tall, thin man, sitting at a microscope.

"Mike," the man said, "can I borrow your phone?"

"Oh, uh sorry, I left it in my car. Don't you have yours?"

"I don't get service down here."

"You can use mine," I say, holding my mobile out in his direction.

The man looks up at me for a moment and I feel like I'm under a microscope. "Oh, thank you," he says, and takes the phone.

I'm immediately startled by his eyes. They appear to be a light blue in the low light of the lab, but when he had come closer to retrieve the phone, they appeared to change to a bright green. _Beautiful_, was my only thought.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock Holmes asked.

"Sorry?" I said.

"You're an army doctor, recently wounded and sent home from war. My question is Afghanistan or Iraq."

"Oh," I say turning to Mike, "you told him about me?"

"Not a word," Mike says with a grin.

"Afghanistan," I say and Sherlock nods slightly.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock Holmes asked.

"I uh...I'm sorry?"

"I play the violin, would that bother you?"

"Umm...I'm sorry?" I ask again, still confused.

"You're looking for a flatmate obviously."

"How do you know that?" I ask.

"I mentioned to Stamford earlier today that I was having difficulty finding someone to go halves with me, and now, no less than 3 hours latter, he shows up with an ex-army doctor with a psychosomatic limp, you're obviously looking for a flatmate. I think flatmates should know the worst about each other, as I said, I play the violin, would that bother you?"

He had spoken so quickly and with such confidence that my breath was knocked out of me. It took me a moment to respond. "Not at all. A well-played violin is a beautiful thing."

Sherlock nods, "I get in moods sometimes and won't talk sometimes for days on end, I also like to conduct experiments. Does any of this sound unbearable to you?"

"No no...I um... I keep an Arcanine, this is him." I motion to Smaug who is sitting by my side. Sherlock looks him over and then shakes his head no.

"Well," Sherlock said, standing up and moving to the door, handing me my phone back as he did so. "I have my eye on a wonderful flat on Baker Street. We can easily afford it together. Come round tomorrow afternoon and we can look the place over. I must be going, I think I left my riding crop in the morgue." He shrugged into a long wool coat and turned the collar up.

"So that's it then? I ask aloud. "We don't know a thing about each other and we're going to look at a flat together. I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name."

"I know that you're an ex army doctor, discharged after serving in Afghanistan and being shot in the right shoulder and a psychosomatic limp in your left leg. You're looking for lodgings because your army pension won't allow you to live here in the city. You have no close family or friends here in London. Though you do have a brother, you won't go to him because you two don't get on, possibly because of his recent divorce. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you didn't like his wife, or maybe you don't like his drinking. Either way, you won't go to him for help." He took a breath and opened the lab door, stepping halfway out into the hall. He leaned back in, "The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street." He winked at me and stepped out into the hall, his long coat swishing behind him.

"He does that sometimes," Mike said, startling me out of my own thoughts.

* * *

On my walk home, I couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock Holmes. I couldn't shake the feeling that meeting this man would change my life forever. I also couldn't shake the feeling the this man was amazing, phenomenal, and absolutely gorgeous. I tried to tell myself that I wasn't gay, but I couldn't fight the hope that I would see more of the strange man, and that possibly we could end up friends, or even more.


End file.
